


Flowerfell ~ Fan-made Overgrowth Follow-ups

by JustYourAveragePerson



Series: One shots [varied] [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flowerfell, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with no happy ending, Death, Depression, Emotional pain, F/M, Fan Continuation, Follow-up, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Resets, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, major angst, overgrowth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustYourAveragePerson/pseuds/JustYourAveragePerson
Summary: Basically my own follow-up/sequel/continuation to the beautifully tragic fic known as Overgrowth! Love the AU and the fic, and yeah that's about it. Warning for major angst, and possible triggers.





	

     “F... flower you today... sweetheart?” Sans manages to gasp the words out in between quiet sobs. Red tinted tears track down his skull, falling silently to the flowers beneath him.

     It’s been several months now. The monsters live free on the surface, albeit in a village of their own. Sans himself had buried Frisk at the base of the mountain the monsters used to reside in, just before the Ruins began. Soon enough golden flowers had coated the grave, one and the same with the ones that once coated his angel’s little face.

     “C... come back... please...” He gritted his teeth, muffling the sobs trying to emerge from somewhere deep in his ribcage. “...I need you...”

     What he wouldn’t give to see his angel again. To hear their soft laugh, feel their delicate hands on his face, see them smiling, just one more time. One more time he’d never get.

     He blames himself. After all, he helped Frisk to their death so many times. Had he not, maybe he’d still have his sweetheart beside him instead of them rotting in a sloppily made grave.

     Sans curls over on himself, forehead brushed softly by golden petals. He wants to scream to the heavens until his voice gives out, demand that Death give Frisk back to him. They shouldn’t be dead, they could’ve had so much... but all he does is cry, until he has no tears left to give. He runs the edge of his sweater against his eye sockets. It’s time to go back.

     The skeleton shakily gets to his feet and turns away. Like always, he looks back before he leaves. Like always, he whispers, “I’ll wait.” And like always, there is no response.

     The bony monster trudged through the Ruins, kicking aside a stone in the path. It skitters away, hitting a wall with a sound that makes him flinch. He walks faster.

     His feet sink into the snow and he hisses curses as the accumulated flakes pile into his socks. He pauses long enough to shake them out before walking on. He slows at the bridge. For a moment he sees not the abandoned sentry station up ahead, not the slippery wood in front of him... No, he sees a figure in a striped sweater approaching with a flower in their arms and tiny blooms dotted on their face. He sees their body convulsing with electricity.

     He sees them come back, refuse to shake his hand. Sans starts walking again, through Snowdin town. His mind’s eye won’t stop. He sees the repeated trips to Grillby’s, the thanks, the death. When he reaches Waterfall, he sees himself appearing with the human in tow. He watches as among the Echo Flowers, they are hunted like prey. He remembers Frisk’s weight against his back as he carried the sick human.

     He passes the statue, which still plays its soft tune. He averts his eyes from it and walks on, trying not to cry again as he remembers how happy it had made Frisk when they first heard it play.

     Heat slaps him in the face as he walks into Hotland. He remembers the ridiculous quiz shows, the hotel, the CORE. His memories move at the same pace as his feet, showing him all the little moments he didn’t appreciate until it was too late.

     He reaches the throne room, and he remembers Frisk no longer able to walk, no longer able to see, barely alive... yet still urging him to be kind. To show mercy. And he did.

     And Frisk died in his arms. They gave up their life to free the monsters who had tried over and over to kill them. They never got to see the surface again. He hadn’t even heard the last words they tried to give to him. He hadn’t even told them how much he had appreciated the kindness they showed him.

     He hadn’t even told them how he’d grown to love them.

     Sans trudged up, out of the mountain. He tried not to think of that, and of course, it was all he could think of. How the feelings lurking deep under the surface never made it through. How he failed the one person he had left to love, the only one who had seemed to see under the facade he wore. The only one who saw him as more than just a monster; the one who showed him there was another way, that he could go on even when everything felt hopeless.

     “Well... little too late for that, ain’t it?”

     Though he told no one, Sans had considered ending his own life. He wanted so badly to be with his angel again he was willing to face the uncertainty of dying, if it meant he might be with them again. But he never tried. Maybe it was because he lacked real motivation. Maybe because he couldn’t think of a way that wouldn’t lead to him being found.

     The evening sun did little to warm him as he emerged onto the surface. The skeleton’s eyes were dim as he looked out over the village below, where the monsters he’d grown up with were going about their normal activities. He could’ve sworn he saw the tall figure of Papyrus leaving the village. Something inside Sans clenched - Pap was always trying to get Sans to talk to him. The two had finally gotten back on good terms once the monsters got free, and Papyrus had stepped back into his role of older brother. However, he could be annoying with how much he nagged at Sans to let Frisk go.

     “He doesn’t know what it feels like...” Sans uttered aloud, tears brimming in his eye sockets. “He doesn’t know what it’s like to love like that. To lose the only person that cared. He- doesn’t- know-” With each word he stepped closer to the edge of the mountain. If he jumped...

     If he jumped, he knew the distance was great enough that he would dust when he hit the ground. If he jumped, Papyrus would find his dust. A sick kind of satisfaction raced through his bones at the thought of how much that would hurt Papyrus.

     “He deserves it,” Sans breathed, looking down at the ground far below. What did he have left? It was so easy, really, to take that last step. “I...”

     But he hesitated. And he hesitated. And he didn’t jump. The urge left and Sans felt emptier than ever.

     “D... Damn it! Why can’t I...” His vision blurred into scarlet and burning tears traced down his cheeks. “ _I want to be with them... Why can’t I make myself do it?_ ”

     He swears he hears a soft voice whisper his name. And as he looks up, he swears he sees Frisk floating there, like the angel they are, several feet away.  
     “Sweetheart--” Desperation grabs ahold of him and he steps forward, forgetting the drop. A fatal move.

     Sans pitches forward, arms flailing as he drops. There is no stopping it, and all he feels is fear. He hits the edge of the path and feels his ribs shatter, but does not scream despite the immense pain. The next impact breaks his left arm. The next, his other arm. The fourth impact renders both legs broken. Everything is screaming and his vision is getting blurry. Finally he hits the ground and feel his spine splinter on impact. He has a feeling his skull is cracked or maybe broken too.

     “SANS!” He hears the scream, but it doesn’t seem important, not really. Pain races red-hot up and down his spine, spreading to the rest of his body, until all he feels is the burning. Yet his feet and hands are numbing, and he can no longer feel many places.

     Sans sees Papyrus in the distance, running full speed towards him. The broken skeleton is dusting in earnest now, a swirl of sparkling dust rising to the wind. He sees Papyrus more clearly, even through his fading sight, and the sight of tears streaming down his brother’s face surprises him. He’s never seen Papyrus cry before.

     But he can’t muster any real feelings about that. An odd calm has come over him, and as Sans finally dissolves for good, he has one last coherent thought.

 

_I’m coming, sweetheart._

  
  


     The monsters stood around a patch of grass littered with sparkling remains. Sitting among them is Sans’s scarf, and the save point necklace he wore. Papyrus is inconsolable, howling with grief over what little is left of his younger brother. The others stand with stunned eyes. They all saw what happened, or were told by others, and one thought was present among all of them: We could have prevented this.

     They had all seen the differences in Sans. His withdrawal from everyone. His lack of speech. His disinterest with everything except visiting Frisk’s grave, which many considered an obsession. Everyone felt they should have seen the signs earlier. They should have done something. If they were kinder, if they took that extra step, _if just one of them had tried a little harder_ , Sans might still be alive.

     Maybe he wouldn’t have jumped. Maybe they could’ve been happy.

     But that hadn’t happened. And all the monsters were under the impression that Sans, the lazy, do-nothing traitor; the companion, and befriender, of humans; the little brother of a feared general, who lacked his brother’s ambitions; the one who always seemed weak... they all thought he had committed suicide to be with the human he had professed to love.

     And damn if they didn’t regret their actions in the past.

  
  


     Everything was black. He couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t know where he was, but... this felt so familiar. Where had he--

      _Oh._

_OH._

     Now he recognized this. What he didn’t know was how it was possible. Frisk was dead, how could they...?

     “How could they reload?”

     He thinks he speaks aloud, but isn’t sure. This limbo-like place is where he’d always go if he died and Frisk was still alive. Frisk would usually die quite quickly, and then Sans would reappear with them at the last savepoint.

     But Frisk was dead. He’d buried them himself. Was Flowey causing the reload? Did the flower have enough Determination to do so? He didn’t know.

     And suddenly, he was atop the mountain again. It was still evening. Sans blinked hard once, twice. This couldn’t be real. Right? ...Right?

     “Sans...?”

     Oh God. How he’d longed to hear that voice. He feels ill, he’s so nervous, and turns around with more than a little apprehension. What if...?

     “Sans!”

     They both start forward at the same time, meeting in the middle. Sans feels their arms wrap tight around him, clutching him close, and truth be told he does the same.

     “Sans...” Frisk sobs out his name, for it’s his angel that ran to him, that hugged him, whole and healthy and perfect.

     “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here--” he chokes out. The two of them are crying, holding each other like their life depends on it. And in some ways, perhaps it does.

     It takes a while before they can calm down. At least, calm down enough to talk.

     “Frisk, I...” He gulps. How can he say everything he wants to say properly? “I thought you were dead...”

     “I was. For a while. But somehow... I could... I could see what was happening... when I saw what you did I... I had just enough Determination left to reset, one last time...”

     “Well, honey... I’m... I’m glad you did.” Sans forces a smile. It doesn’t last long.

     “Sans?!” The skeleton had dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t help it. The guilt was overpowering.

     “God I failed you I let you die I was supposed to keep you safe you were the only person that cared about me I-” Sans heaves a sob, lowering his head, voice cracked and broken as he goes on. “I loved you. All I wanted was to keep you safe, so we could live free on the surface together... And I failed you.”

     “Sans... you didn’t fail me.” Frisk kneels, hand rested on his cheekbone. He looks at them slowly, lost in their gentle voice. “You did the best you could. You cared for me in your own way, and we made it through. I... I thought you would be happy once the monsters were free. I thought you’d forget me.” Frisk sighs. “Obviously I was wrong.”

     “H... how could I forget about you..?” The skeleton’s voice was harsh from crying. “After... after you sacrificed everything you had for the monsters who tried to kill you? After how kind you were to me...? Frisk, nothing in this world could make me forget about you.”

     After a long silence, Frisk stands up, Sans rising with them.

     “Let’s go home,” they say. So simply, too. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

     They walk down the mountain path, hand in hand. Sans turns his head to look at the village below, seeing Papyrus walking towards the mountain. A few petals drift by his head, and he watches them float away.

     “Thank you,” he says to Frisk, who looks confused.

     “For what?”

     The simple reply?

     “Everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Undertale belongs to Toby Fox, Underfell belongs to its owner, and Overgrowth belongs to SociopathicArchangel. I claim no credit for any of those, all rights to the owners.


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